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TO    T. 

F  the  world'*  s  entirety 
Is  tzvo  eyes  that  Jhine  on  me. 
Lay  the  blame  at  Love^ s  door,  deareft : 
Thus  he  made  my  world  to  be. 

He  'j-  the  hey  to  Heaven"*  s  gate ; 
He  'j  the  /corn  that  tramples  fate ; 
He  'j-  the  worth  of  livings  deareft 
He  'j  the  laugh  that  makes  Death  late. 

He  'j  the  morning  fun  that  wakes  us 
To  the  worth  of  all  things y  deareft ^ 
He  'j-  the  influence  that  makes  us 
Daily  gladder,  '  ////  God  takes  us  ! 

Tom  AS  Beauling. 


M193205 


i^ 


\:S-, 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Dedication vii 

Preface xi 

Chant  Royal  of  the  God  of  Love i 

Cupid  Millaken 4 

Cupid  Once  Upon  a  Bed 5 

Cupid's  Birth 6 

Cupid  at  Court 7 

Cupid 8 

Cupid's  Lottery ."    .      .  10 

Cupid's  Curfe 1 1 

Love's  Flitting 12 

Love's  Tyranny 13 

The  Triumph  of  Cupid 14 

Song  to  Cupid 15 

Baniihed  Love 16 

To  Cupid  for  Pardon 17 

Love's  Hunting iS 

Love  Goes  A-Hawking 19 

Love's  Blindnefs 20 

Love  Afleep 21 

Dan  Cupid's  Trick 22 

Love's  Arrows 24 

Love,  the  Gueft 25 

Cupid 26 

For  Cupid  Dead 27 

At  the  Sign  of  the  Blind  Cupid 28 

Cupid's  Arrow 30 

Cupid  Plague  Thee  for  Thy  Treafon       .       .      .      .  31 

Young  Love  's  a  Gallant  Boy 33 

Venus'  Runaway 34 

Beware  the  Rogue 36 


^^>5 


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m 


The  Fair  Thief 37 

Love  and  the  Witches 39 

Love  and  Dream 40 

Cupid  Laid  by  His  Brand 41 

A  Madrigal 42 

Love's  Reward 44 

The  Love  That  is  Requited  Witli  Difdain   ...  45 

Cupid  Relieved 46 

Love  Baniihed  Heaven 47 

The  Begging  Cupid 48 

Love!   If  a  God  Thou  Art 50 

Love's  Going 5  ' 

Cupid's  Arrows 53 

The  Growth  of  Love         54 

Love's  Qualities 56 

Ballade  of  the  Rofe 57 

An  Awakening 5S 

Love  and  a  Compals 59 

Love  is  Dead 60 

Wily  Cupid 62 

The  Burial  of  Love 63 

Cupid  Swallowed 65 

The  Fillet 66 

The  Archery  Match 68 

The  Burial  of  Love 69 

Song 70 

Love  anil  Mifchief 71 

Damon  and  Cupid 72 

Cupid  and  Campafpe 74 

Love  for  Love 7  5 

A  Kifs 76 

The  Dilemma 77 

Love  Penitent 79 


fer 


■*(<^ 


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ii 


PREFACE 

j-Y  will  be  readily  apparent  that  the   aim  of  this 
Jf  volume    is    to    collect    the    choiceil    poems    on 
Cupid   fcattered    throughout    EngHfh    literature. 
A  large  harveil  has  been  gleaned,  and  what  my 
judgment  counts  excellent,  lb  far  as  practicable, 
is    reprefented.      The    attitude    towards    Cupid 
has  mollly  been  one  of  obilinate  refiiUnce,  but 
he     has     the    element    that    wins, —  fometimes 
fantaftically,    fometimes  pathetically.      The  be- 
leaguering little  rogue  never  quits   the   field  de- 
feated,— to  him  no  fuit  is  hopeless. 
If  fome  of  the  verfes  are  not  of  high  value  as  com- 
pofitions  they  are  all-important  when  confidered 
relative   to   the   fubject,    and  a  majority   of  the 
poems  are  of  unqueftionable  hterary  merit. 
I  beg  to  acknowledge   the  gracious  favor  of  The 
Century   Co.,    Houghton,    Mifflin  &  Co.,    Life 
Publilhing  Co.,  Frederick  A.  Stokes  Co.,  G.  P, 
Putnam's  Sons,  Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  Cassell 
Publilhing  Co.,  and  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  for  the 
ufe  of  copyright  poems.     I  alfo  gratefully  acknow- 
ledge the  eminent  courtefy  of  individual  authors 

for  permiffion  to  reprint. 

^  .  I.   R.   W. 

XI 


^<\ 


a- 


IN    CUPID'S    COURT 

CHANT    ROYAL    OF    THE    GOD    OF   LOVE 


MOST  fair  God,  O  Love  both  new  and  old. 

That  waft  before  the  flowers  of  morning  blew. 
Before  the  glad  sun  in  his  mail  of  gold 

Leapt  into  light  across  the  firft  day's  dew  ; 
That  art  the  firil  and  laft  of  our  delight. 
That  in  the  blue  day  and  the  purple  night 
Holdeft  the  hearts  of  fervant  and  of  king. 
Lord  of  lieffe,  fovran  offorrowing. 
That  in  thy  hand  haft  heaven's  golden  key 

And  hell  beneath  the  fliadow  of  thy  wing. 
Thou  art  my  Lord  to  whom  I  bend  the  knee  ! 

What  thing  rejects  thy  maftery  ?   Who  fo  bold 
But  at  thine  altars  in  the  dufk  they  fue  r 

Even  the  ftraight  pale  goddess,  filver-stoled. 

That  kifled  Endymion  when  the  fpring  was  new. 

To  thee  did  homage  in  her  own  defpite. 

When  in  the  fliadow  of  her  wings  of  white 

She  flid  down  trembling  from  her  mooned  ring 
To  where  the  Latmian  youth  lay  flumbering. 

And  in  that  kiss  put  off  cold  chaftity. 

Who  but  acclaim  with  voice  and  pipe  and  ftring, 

**  Thou  art  my  Lord  to  whom  I  bend  the  knee  !" 

I 


Mailer  of  men  and  gods,  in  every  fold 

Of  thy  wide  vans  the  forceries  that  renew 
The  labouring  earth,  tranced  with  the  winter's  cold. 

Lie  hid — the  quinteflential  charms  that  woo 
The  fouls  of  flowers,  flain  with  the  fullen  might 
Of  the  dead  year,  and  draw  them  to  the  light. 

Balfam  and  bleffing  to  thy  garments  cling  ; 

Skyward  and  feaward,  whilst  thy  white  palms  fling 
Their  fpells  of  healing  over  land  and  fea. 

One  fliout  of  homage   makes  the  welkin  ring, 
*'  Thou  art  my  Lord  to  whom  I  bend  the  knee  !  " 

I  see  thee  throned  aloft;  thy  fair  hands  hold 

Myrtles  for  joy,  and  euphrafy  and  rue: 
Laurels  and  rofes  round  thy  white  brows  rolled. 

And  in  thine  eyes  the  royal  heaven's  hue: 
But  in  thy  lips'  clear  colour,  ruddy  bright. 
The  heart's  blood  fliines  of  many  a  haplefs  wight. 

Thou  art  not  only  fair  and  fweet  as  Spring; 

Terror  and  beauty,  fear  and  wondering 
Meet  on  thy  front,  amazing  all  who  fee: 

All  men  do  praife  thee,  ay,  and  everything! 
Thou  art  my  Lord  to  whom  I  bend  the  knee! 


I  fear  thee,  though  I  love.     Who  can  behold 
The  fheer  sun  burning  in  the  orbed  blue. 

What  while  the  noontide  over  hill  and  wold 
Flames  like  a  fire,  except  his  mazed  view 

Wither  and  tremble?     So  thy  fplendid  fight 

Fills  me  with  mingled  gladnefs  and  affright. 
Thy  vifage  haunts  me  in  the  wavering 
Of  dreams,  and  in  the  dawn,  awakening, 

I  feel  thy  splendour  ftreaming  full  on  me. 
Both  joy  and  fear  unto  thy  feet  I  bring; 

Thou  art  my  Lord  to  whom  I  bend  the  knee! 


ENVOY 

OD  above  Gods,  High  and  Eternal  King^ 

Whofe  praifey  the  fymphonies  of  heaven  fingy 
1  find  no  whither  from  thy  power  to  flee y 

Save  in  thy  pinions^  vafi  o'erfjadowing  : 
Thou  art  my  Lord  to  whom  I  bend  the  knee! 

John  Payne. 


CUPID  MISTAKEN 


.-.^^€4 


t 


y4'=>  after  noon,  one  fummer's  day, 
^/j^  Venus  Hood  bathing  in  a  river, 
Cupid  a-fhooting  went  that  way. 

New  llrung  his  bow,  new  filkd  his  quiver. 

With  fkill  he  chofe  his  fharpell  dart, 
With  all  his  might  his  bow  he  drew; 

Swift  to  his  beauteous  parent's  heart 
The  too  well-guided  arrow  flew. 


C^ 


**  I  faint  !   I  die  !  "  the  goddels  cried  ; 

♦*  O  cruel,  couldlt  thou  find  none  other 
To  wreak  ihy  I'plecn  on  ?      Parricide  ! 

Like  Nero,  thou  hall  flain  thv  mother." 


'^Z 


''IS 


Poor  Cupid  fobbing  fcarcc  could  i'peak  : 
"  Indeed,  mamma,  I  did  not  know  ve  ; 

Alas  !   how  eafy  my  miilake  ; 

I  took  you  for  your  likenefs,  Cloe." 

Matthew    Prior, 


iw' 


M. 


\  ,^ 


CUPID  ONCE  UPON  A  BED 

•^upiD  once  upon  a  bed 
V>/    Of  rofes  laid  his  weary  head  ; 
Lucklefs  urchin  not  to  fee 
Within  the  leaves  a  flumbering  bee  ! 
The  bee  awaked  —  with  anger  wild 
The  bee  awaked  and  ftung  the  child. 
Loud  and  piteous  are  his  cries  ; 
To  Venus  quick  he  runs,  he  flies  ! 
*'  O  mother  !   I  am  wounded  through  — 
I  die  with  pain  —  in  footh  I  do  ! 
Stung  by  fome  little  angry  thing. 
Some  ferpent  on  a  tiny  wing  — 
A  bee  it  was  —  for  once,  I  know, 
I  heard  a  ruilic  call  it  fo." 
Thus  he  fpoke,  and  flie  the  while 
Heard  him  with  a  foothing  fmile  ; 
Then  faid,  *'  My  infant,  if  fo  much 
Thou  feel  the  little  wild  bee's  touch. 
How  mull  the  heart,  ah,  Cupid  !   be  — 
The  haplefs  heart  that  's  Hung  by  thee  ?  " 
Thomas   Moore. 

(Odes  of  Anacreon.) 

5 


^ 


CUPID'S  BIRTH 

T  Cupid's  birth,  Joy  left  the  bounds  of  fpace, 
And,  heeding  not  the  liars,  flew  fall  to  earth. 
To  hold  the  hearts  of  men  in  warm  embrace. 
At  Cupid's  birth. 

Then  Life,  with  beaming  eyes  and  quickened  pace. 
And  new-found  god-like   llrength,  firll   knew    her 
worth; 
While  Fate  began  the  future  to  retrace. 


But  Death  flood  gently  by  with  quiet  grace. 
Aloof  from  all  the  tumult  and  mad  mirth, 

A  fweet,  fad  fmile  lit  up  his  lleadfall  face 
At  Cupid's  birth. 

R.  W.  Bunny. 


CUPID    AT    COURT 

OUNG  Cupid  ilrung  his  bow  one  day. 

And  faliied  out  for  fport ; 
As  country  hearts  were  eafy  prey. 
Odd  Darts!  he  went  to  court. 

Of  all  that  wore  the  puff  and  patch, 

Belinda  led  the  fair  : 
With  falbala,  and  fan  to  match, 

I  trow  fhe  made  him  ilare  ! 

**Oho!"  he  cried,  and  quickly  drew 

His  bow  upon  the  sly ; — 
But  though  he  pierced  her  bofom  through. 

She  never  breathed  a  figh! 

This  was  a  turn,  beyond  a  doubt. 

That  filled  him  with  amaze. 
And  fo  he  fought  his  mother  out, 

With  tear-bewildered  gaze. 

**You  filly  boy,"  Dame  Venus  faid, 

**Why  did  you  wafte  your  art  ? 
Go  clip  your  curls  and  hide  your  head, — 

Belinda  has  no  heart!" 

Samuel  Minturn  Peck. 


IS 


•.^>»»^>4.^5^^ 


't. 


TTy^^^  was  Cupid  a  boy, 
p^ ^         And  why  a  boy  was  he  ? 
He  fhould  have  been  a  girl. 
For  aught  that  I  can  fee. 

For  he  (hoots  with  his  bow. 

And  the  girl  fhoots  with  her  eye  ; 

And  they  both  are  merry  and  glad. 
And  laugh  when  we  do  cry. 

Then  to  make  Cupid  a  boy 
Was  furely  a  woman's  plan. 

For  a  boy  never  learns  fo  much 
Till  he  has  become  a  man: 

And  then  he  's  fo  pierced  with  cares. 
And  wounded  with  arrowy  fmarts. 
That  the  whole  bufmefs  of  his  life 
Is  to  pick  out  the  heads  of  the  darts. 
William   Blake 
8 


t/*^^^ 


CUPID*S    LOTTERY 

LOTTERY,  a  Lottery, 

In  Cupid's  Court  there  ufed  to  be; 

Two  roguifh  eyes 

The  highell  prize 
In  Cupid's  fcheming  Lottery  ; 

And  kifles,  too. 

As  good  as  new. 
Which  were  n't  very  hard  to  win. 

For  he  who  won 

The  eyes  of  fun 
Was  fure  to  have  the  killes  in. 

A  Lottery,  a  Lottery,  etc. 

This  Lottery,  this  Lottery 

In  Cupid's  court  went  merrily. 

And  Cupid  played 

A  Jewifh  trade 
In  this  his  fcheming  Lottery ; 

For  hearts,  we  're  told. 
In  f hares  he  fold 

To  many  a  fond  believmg  drone, 

And  cut  the  hearts 

In  fixteen  parts 
So  well,  each  thought  the  whole  his  own, 
A  Lottery,  a  Lottery,  etc. 

Thomas  Moore. 


lo 


CUPID'S    CURSE 

V  love  is  fair,  my  love  is  gay. 
As  frefh  as  are  the  flowers  in  May; 
And  of  my  love  the  roundelay, 
My  merry,  merry  roundelay. 

Concludes  vi'ith  Cupid's  curse: 
They  that  do  change  old  love  for  new. 

Pray  gods  they  change  for  worfe  ! 

My  love  can  pipe,  my  love  can  fmg, 

My  love  can  many  a  pretty  thing. 
And  of  his  lovely  praifes  ring 
My  merry,  merry  roundelays. 

Amen  to  Cupid's  curfe! 
They  that  do  change  old  love  for  new. 

Pray  gods  they  change  for  worfe  ! 

George  Peele. 


1 1 


LOVE'S  FLITTING 

T T  7'^^'^  Love  is  coming,  coming, 
f^ f^         Meet  him  with  fongs  and  joy. 
Bid  him  alight  and  enter. 

Flatter  and  feaft  the  boy  ; 
Crown  him  with  gems  and  rofcs. 

Charm  him  with  winning  wiles. 
Bind  him  with  lovely  garlands. 

And  kilfes,  and  Imiles. 


\% 


When  Love  is  going,  going. 

Leaving  )-oli  all  alone. 
Craving,  the  fickle  t\'rant. 

Some  newer  flave  and  throne, 
Hinder  him  not,  hut  cjuicklv. 

Even  though  )our  heart  may  bleed, 
Saddle  a  horie  for  his  journey. 

And  bid  him  (jod-fpeed  ! 

Ei.r/AHi-iii   Akkks. 


LOVE'S  TYRANNY 

ove's  tyranny  now  wherefore  fhould  I  praise, 
Not  being  enamoured  of  my  altered  plight  ! 


I  often  figh  who  once  fang  roundelays  ; 

I  know  the  fleeplels  gnomes  that  haunt  the  night. 

I  turn  with  feverifh  jealoufy  to  hear 

Words  that  were  fpoken  when  I  was  not  near. 

I  fliroud  my  eyes  from  fights  I  dare  not  fee. 
Yet  who  fo  fpies  mull  tell  his  tale  to  me. 

Madman  am  I,  who  give  my  vote  for  death. 
Yet  heed  not  the  grim  hand  that  beckoneth. 

Love  I  entreat  to  go,  and  while  I  pray 
Grafp  him  with  nervous  fingers,  lell  he  ilray. 

Ah  !    than  love's  bleffmg  is  no  deadlier  curfe. 
And  yet  —  and  yet  —  to  live  undamned  were  worfe. 

Percy   Hemingway. 


13 


•^■'"'^^ 


.4^ 


THE    TRIUMPH    OF    CUPID 


^E  came  in  bufy  hours  — 

My  holidays  are  few  — 
He  brought  the  fcent  of  flowers. 
And  whifpered,  dear,  of  you. 


I  vowed  that  I  would  flay  him. 

And  fcourge  him  out  of  fight; 
Nay  more,  I  vowed  to  flay  him. 

The  mifchief-making  fprite. 

I  gave  him  caullic  chiding. 

Let  fly  a  poifoned  dart. 
Prello!  the  lad  was  hiding 

Safely  within  my  heart! 

There  all  day  long  he  chatters 
Of  fome  one's  charm  and  grace; 

Till  nothing  really  matters 
Except  to  fee  your  face, 

I  would  I  had  not  chidden. 

Nor  tried  the  fprite  to  kill  ; 
For  in  my  heart  lafe  hidden. 

He  works  his  wayward  will. 

Geraldine  Mevrick. 


>4 


SONG    TO    CUPID 


WARV  clf  Cupid,  O  dimpled,  coy  Cupid, 

Are  you  loll  in  the  moonbeams,  or  hid  in  a  role? 

Who  law  you,  lo  nimble,  flip  out  of  a  thimble. 
And  hang  from  the  loops  of  a  lily-maid's  bows? 


Wee,  fpry  little  midget,  the  world's  in  a  fidget 

To  fnare  and  then  coddle  you,  mifchievous   fpritc; 

Your    pranks    and    mad    gambols    and    primrole-path 
rambles 
'Mid  briers  and  brambles  are  all  my  delight. 

In  ivy-clad  bowers  you  neitle  for  hours. 

And  lurk  in  the  flowers  that  iwing  in  the  breeze; 

There  counting  the  kifles,  the  iweet  ilolen  blifles. 
Of  Strephon  and  Phyllis  in  languorous  eafe. 

We  trifle  and  putter,  our  hearts  in  a  flutter. 
In  a  tangled  Ikein  ipun  by  the  toiletted  fair. 

The   weary  hours  whiling,  and  dull  care  beguiling  — 
Lo!  dimpled  and  fmiling,  you  're  loitering  there  I 

O  wary  elf  Cupid,  O  cunning,  coy  Cupid, 
Are  lovers  all  Ilupid,  dear,  rollicking  boy  ? 

While  maidens  are  fighing  and  love-knots  are  tying, 
The  fnap  of  your  bow-flring  bodes  lorrow  and  joy! 

Harold  Van  Santvoord. 


15 


^jw?»-^!^ 


*>*  v*// 


BANISHED  LOVE 


SHEPHERDS  !   havc  ye  wandering  feen 
A  winged  boy  with  blinded  eyes  r 
J  drove  him  from  me  yeller  e'en, 
Defpite  his  tears  and  pleading  fighs. 

He  bears  a  pretty  bow,  and  keen 
Tipped  arrows  in  his  quiver  lie. 
O  Ihepherds,  tell  me,  have  vou  icen 
This  banifhed  Love  come  wandering  by  ? 

Why  fhines  the  fun,  regret  to  mock, 
Why  flaunt  the  flowers  in  hues  fo  gay. 
Why  (kip  with  joy  the  Ihowv  flock. 
When  poor  lolt  Love  is  far  away  ? 

Unfeeling  fliepherds,  wherefore  fmile 
And  point  toward  my  breaking  heart  ? 
What  !    dole  behind  me  all  this  while  ? 
O  Iweet  !   we  two  no  more  fliall  part. 

Virginia    B.    Harrison. 


-:2^, 


^I^CK 


,vT 


If 


TO    CUPID    FOR    PARDON 

CUPID,  pardon  what  is  pall. 
And  forgive  our  fins  at  lall  ! 
Then  we  will  be  coy  no  more. 
But  thy  deity  adore  ; 
Troths  at  fifteen  we  will  plight. 
And  will  tread  a  dance  each  night. 
In  the  fields,  or  by  the  fire, 
With  the  youths  that  have  defire. 
Given  ear-rings  we  will  wear. 
Bracelets  of  our  lovers'  hair. 
Which  thev  on  our  arms  fhall  twill. 
With  their  names  carved,  on  our  wrill  : 
All  the  money  that  we  owe 
We  in  tokens  wmII  bellow  ; 
And  learn  to  write  that,  when  't  is  lent, 
Only  our  loves  know  what  is  meant. 
Oh,  then  pardon  what  is  pall. 
And  forgive  our  fins  at  lail. 

Beaumont  and   Fletcher, 


17 


M 


LOVE'S    HUNTING 


^^^^liijAST  thou  feen  a  boy  lo  clever, 
/!M^!^fJ  ^        Bow  in  hand,  and  from  his  fhou 


Id 


ers 


-V  Three  tipped  arrows  in  a  quiver. 

With  which,  piercing  all  beholders. 
He  goes  up  and  down  forever  ? 


One  dart,  in  the  deep  eye  clinging. 

Blinds  us  ever  to  his  aiming; 
One  liraight  at  the  white  throat  flinging, 

He  denies  his  wrong's  complaining; 
One  he  leaves  in  the  heart  Hinging. 

And  the  hill  dart,  tipt  with  fcorning. 

Quickly  kindles  a  hot  paflion 
Which  confumes  us  with  its  burning  : 

Eyeless,  tongueless,  in  fuch  fafhion. 
Blind  and  mute,  we  wander  yearning. 

James  Herbert  Mors 


2S 


LOVE  GOES  A-HAWKING 

ho!  a  ho! 

Love's  horn  doth  blow. 
And  he  will  out  a-hawking  go. 
His  fhafts  are  light  as  beauty's  fighs. 
And  bright  as  midnight's  brightest  eyes. 

And  round  his  Harry  way 
The  fwan-wing'd  horfes  of  the  fkies. 
With  fummer's  mufic  in  their  manes. 
Curve  their  fair  necks  to  zephyr's  reins. 
And  urge  their  graceful  play. 


A  ho!  A  ho! 

Love's  horn  doth  blow. 

And  he  will  out  a-hawking  go." 
The  fparrows  flutter  round  his  wrist. 
The  feathery  thieves  that  Venus  kist 

And  taught  their  morning  song. 
The  linnets  feek  the  airy  list. 
And  fwallows  too,  small  pets  of  Spring, 
Beat  back  the  gale  with  fwifter  wing. 

And  dart  and  wheel   along. 


T9 


A  ho!  A  ho! 

Love's  horn  doth  blow. 

And  he  will  out  a-hawking  go. 
Now  woe  to  every  gnat  that  ikips 
To  filch  the  fruit  of  ladies'  lips. 

His  felon  blood  is  fhed; 
And  woe  to  flies,  whose  airy  fhips 
On  beauty  cast  their  anchoring  bite. 
And  bandit  wasp,  that  naughty  wight. 

Whose  rting  is  flaughter-red. 

Thomas  Lovell  Beddoes. 


LOVE'S    BLINDNESS 

HAVE  heard  of  reafons  manifold 
Why  Love  muil  needs  be  blind. 

But  this  the  bell  of  all  I  hold  — 
His  eyes  are  in  his  mind. 

What  outward  form  and  feature  are 
He  gueffeth  but  in  part; 

But  that  within  is  good  and  fair 
He  feeth  with  the  heart. 


Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge. 


?o 


LOVE    ASLEEP 

FOUND  Love  fleeping  in  a  place  of  fhade. 

And  as  in  fome  fweet  dream  the  fvveet  lips  frailed  , 
Yea,  feemed  he  as  a  lovely,  fleeping  child. 

Soft  kiffes  on  his  full,  red  lips  I  laid. 

And  with  red  rofes  did  his  treffes  braid  ; 

Then  pure,  white  lilies  on  his  bread  I  piled. 
And  fettered  him  with  woodbine  fweet  and  wild, 

And  fragrant  armlets  for  his  arms  I  made. 

But  while  I,  leaning,  yearned  across  his  breaft. 
Upright  he  fprang,  and  from  fwift  hand,  alert. 
Sent  forth  a  fhaft  that  lodged  within  my  heart. 
Ah,  had  I  never  played  with  Love  at  reft. 

He  had  not  wakened,  had  not  cast  his  dart. 
And  I  had  lived  who  die  now  of  this  hurt. 

Philip  Bourke  Marston. 


2E 


DAN  CUPID'S  TRICK 

rHE  little  boy  called  Love  lay  dead. 
And  on  his  tiny  tomb 
Some  carven  letters  fweetly  faid 
That  for  a  day  his  heart  had  bled. 

And  named  the  maid  for  whom. 

This  maid,  on  coming  to  the  mound. 

Felt  a  remorfeful  pain. 
And  killed  his  image,  clafped  it  round. 
Grew  pale,  and  fank  upon  the  ground. 

And  fhed  an  April  rain. 

Then,  like  a  prifon-burlling  thief, 
Outleapt  the  bounding  boy, 

Whofe  Hay  in  Hades  had  been  brief — 

For  hardly  had  he  died  of  grief 
Than  he  arofe  for  joy. 

**  What  means  this  caper?"  cried  the  maid, 

As  in  his  arms  fhe  fank. 
And  half  delighted,  half  afraid. 
Began  moft  fweetly  to  upbraid 

This  moil  audacious  prank. 


t?^'*^ 


^5i^5^ 


"  Fair  maid,  your  fcorn  of  me,"  he  faid, 

"  Was  all  a  make-believe. 
And  put  the  thought  into  my  head 
To  play  the  trick  of  being  dead. 

To  lee  how  you  would  grieve." 

She  dafhed  with  anger  from  her  eyes 

Her  all-too-tender  tears, — 
And  greatly  to  the  lad's  surprife. 
And  heedlefs  of  his  woeful  cries. 
She  boxed  his  little  ears. 

**  Back  to  your  tomb  and  there  abide  ! 

And  quit  it  not  !  "  quoth  fhe 
(And  added,  locking  him  infide), 
"  I  never  loved  you  till  you  -'//Vv/ 

For  juft  your  love  of  me." 

Theodore  Tilton. 


v> 


LOVE'S   ARROWS 


SAW  young  Love  make  trial  of  his  bow. 

In  May's  green  garden  where  he  Oiot  his  dart. 
Nor  recked  if  any  nigh  beheld,  his  art. 

But  other  eyes  did  mark  him  as  I  know; 

For  my  fweet  lady  fate  anear  his  throw. 

And  I  with  her,  and  joined  heart  to  heart. 
So  that  we  might  not  feel  the  bitter  fmart 

Love  leaveth  there  when  time  doth  force  to  go. 


We  heard  Love's  arrows  falling  in  the  grass. 

Or  watched  them  quiver  in  the  targe  below; 
Yet  few  to  us  came  nigh,  nor  might  they  pass 
Beyond  our  feet,  which  trembled  when  they  came, 
Whofe  hearts  were  not  the  quarry  for  his  aim. 
That  in  Love's  chafe  fell  ilricken  long  ago. 

Walter  Crane, 


LOVE,    THE    GUEST 

■^j  DID  not  dream  that  Love  would  rtay, 
I  deemed  him  but  a  paffing  guell. 
Yet  here  he  lingers  many  a  day. 


I  faid,  **  Young  Love  will  flee  with  May, 
And  leave  forlorn  the  hearth  he  hlell"; 
I  did  not  dream  that  Love  would  Hay. 

My  envious  neighbor  mocks  me  *'  Nay, 

Love  lies  not  long  in  any  neil"; 
Yet  here  he  lingers  many  a  day. 

And  though  I  did  his  will  alway. 
And  gave  him  even  of  my  belt; 
I  did  not  dream  that  Love  would  flay. 

I  have  no  fkill  to  bid  him  Hay, 

Of  tripping  tongue  or  cunning  jefl. 
Yet  here  he  lingers  many  a  dav. 

Beneath  his  ivory  feet  I  lay 

Pale  plumage  of  the  ringdove's  breart; 
I  did  not  dream  that  Love  would  Hay. 

Will  Love  be  flown?  I  ofttimes  fay, 

Home  turning  for  the  noonday  rell; 
Yet  here  he  lingers  many  a  day. 


2s 


His  gold  curls  gleam,  his  lips  are  gay. 

His  eyes  through  tears  fmile  loveliefl; 
I  did  not  dream  that  love  would  Hay. 

He  fometimes  fighs  when  far  away 

The  low  red  fun  makes  fair  the  weft. 
Yet  here  he  lingers  many  a  day. 

Thrice  bleft  of  all  men  am  I!    yea. 

Although  of  all  unworthieft; 
I  did  not  dream  that  Love  would  ftay. 
Yet  here  he  lingers  many  a  day. 

Graham  R.  Tomson. 


CUPID 

ELFISH  rogue,  did  Pfyche  dream. 

When  her  lamp  flie  held  above  him. 
How  the  oil  would  downward  llream. 
Wake  the  rogue  and  make  her  love  him? 

Mary  Chace  Peckham. 


26 


FOR    CUPID    DEAD 

HEN  Love  is  dead,  what  more  but  funeral  rites  — 

To  lay  his  iweet  corfe  lovingly  to  rell. 
To  cover  him  with  rofe  and  eglantine. 

And  all  fair  pofies  that  he  loved  the  best  ? 

What  more,  but  kifles  for  his  clole-fhut  eyes  — 
His  cold.  Hill  lips  that  never  more  will  fpeak  — 

His  hair,  too  bright  for  dull  of  death  to  dim  — 
The  flufh  fcarce  faded  from  his  frozen  cheek  ? 

What  more  but  tears  that  will  not  warm  his  brow. 
Although    they   burn    the    eyes    from    which   they 
ftart  ?  — 

No  bitter  weeping  or  more  bitter  words 

Can  roufe  to  one  more  throb  that  pulieless  heart. 

So  dead  he  is,  who  once  was  so  alive! 

In  fummer,  when  the  ardent  days  were  long. 
He  was  as  warm  as  June,  as  gay  and  glad 

As  any  bird  that  fwelled  its  throat  with  fong. 

So  dead!  —  yet  all  things  were  his  minifters  — 
All  birds  and  blolfoms,  and  the  joyous  June! 

Would  they  had  died,  and  kept  Iweet  Love  alive  ; 
Since  he  is  gone  the  world  is  out  of  tune, 

Louise  Chandler  Moulton: 


27 


AT  THE  SIGN  OF   THE   BLIND  CUPID 


T"  #"^HEN  blufhing  cheeks  and  downcall  eyes 
f^f^         Set  all  the  heart  aflame, 
When  love  within  a  dimple  lies 

And  conllancy  's  a  name. 
Since  every  lafs  is  paffing  fair, 

Cupid  mull  fly  and  fee  ; 
And,  lightly  flitting  here  and  there, 

A  winged  hoy  is  he. 


f 


When  creeping  years  fl:eal  on  apace 

And  youth  and  vigor  go. 
When  time  with  wrinkles  marks  the  face 

And  llrcws  the  hair  with  fnow. 
Ah,  then  no  winged  boy  is  he  ; 

But  ilrong-limbed  and  complete. 
With  blinded  eyes  that  need  not  fee. 

Since  memory  guides  his  teet. 

Walter    Learned. 


28 


CUPID'S    ARROW 


OUNG  Cupid  went  ftorming  to  Vulcan  one  day, 

And  belought  him  to  look  at  his  arrow. 
**'T  is  uleless!"  he  cried,  **you  mud  mend  it,  I  fay, 

'T  is  n't  fit  to  let  fly  at  a  fparrow. 
There  's  fomething  that 's  wrong  in  the  fliaft,  or  the 
dart. 
For  it  flutters  quite  falfe  to  my  aim, 
'T  is  an  age  fince  it  fairly  went  home  to  a  heart, 
And  the  world  really  jells  at  my  name. 


**I   have   ilraightened,    I've   bent,    I've   tried    all,    I 
declare, 

I've  perfumed  it  with  fweetest  of  sighs; 
'T  is  feathered  with  ringlets  my  mother  might  wear, 

And  the  barb  gleams  with  light  from  young  eves ; 
But  it  falls  without  touching  —  I  '11  break  it,  I  vow. 

For  there  's  Hymen  beginning  to  pout. 
He  's  complaining  his  torch  beam's  fo  dull  and  fo  low, 

That  Zephyr  might  pufi^it  right  out." 

Little  Cupid  went  on  with  his  pitiful  tale. 

Till  Vulcan  the  weapon  reflored. 
**  There,  take  it,  young  fir,  try  it  now.      If  it  fail, 

I  will  ask  neither  fee  nor  reward!" 
The  urchin  (hot  out,  and  rare  havoc  he  made, 

The  wounded  and  dead  were  untold. 
But  no  wonder  the  rogue  had  luch  flaughtering  trade. 

For  the  arrow  was  laden  with  gold. 

Eliza  Cook. 


30 


CUPID    PLAGUE    THEE    FOR    THY    TREASON 


ow  I  fee  thy  looks  were  feigned. 
Quickly  loll,  and  quickly  gained; 
Soft  thy  Ikin,  like  wool  of  wethers. 
Heart  inconflant,  light  as  feathers. 
Tongue  untrufty,  fubtle-fighted. 
Wanton  will  with  change  delighted. 
Siren,  pleafant  foe  to  reafon, 
Cupid  plague  thee  for  thy  treafon! 


Of  thine  eye  I  made  my  mirror. 
From  thy  beauty  came  my  error. 
All  thy  words  I  counted  witty. 
All  thy  fighs  I  deemed  pity. 
Thy  falfe  tears  that  me  aggrieved, 
Firft  of  all  my  trufl  deceived. 
Siren,  pleafant  foe  to  reafon, 
Cupid  plague  thee  for  thy  treafon! 

Feigned  acceptance  when  I  afked, 
Lovely  words  with  cunning  mafked. 
Holy  vows,  but  heart  unholy; 
Wretched  man,  my  trull  was  folly; 
Lily  white,  and  pretty  winking. 
Solemn  vows  but  forry  thinking. 
Siren,  pleafant  foe  to  reafon, 
Cupid  plague  thee  for  thy  treafon ! 


31 


Now  I  fee,  O  feemly  cruel. 
Others  warm  them  at  my  fuel. 
Wit  fhall  guide  me  in  this  durance 
Since  in  love  is  no  afl'urance: 
Change  thy  pafture,  take  thy  pleafure. 
Beauty  is  a  fading  treafure. 

Siren,  pleafant  foe  to  reafon, 

Cupid  plague  thee  for  thy  treafon! 

Prime  youth  lalls  not,  age  will  follow 
And  make  white  thofe  treffes  yellow. 
Wrinkled  face,  for  looks  delightful. 
Shall  acquaint  the  dame  defpiteful. 
And  when  time  fhall  date  thy  glory. 
Then  too  late  thou  wult  be  forry. 

Siren,  pleafant  foe  to  reafon, 

Cupid  plague  thee  for  thy  treafon! 

Thomas  Lodge. 


3^ 


YOUNG    LOVE  'S    A    GALLANT    BOY 

^^!^^.^^^HEN  Love  came  firll  to  earth,  the  Spring 
Spread  rofe-beds  to  receive  him. 
And  back  he  vowed  his  flight  he  'd  wing 
To  Heaven,  if  fl:ie  fliould  leave  him. 

But  Spring  departing,  faw  his  faith 
Pledged  to  the  next  new-comer  — 

He  revelled  in  the  warmer  breath 
And  richer  bowers  of  Summer. 

Then  fportive  Autumn  claimed  by  rights 

An  Archer  for  her  lover. 
And  even  in  Winter's  dark  cold  nights 

A  charm  he  could  diicover. 

Her  routs  and  balls,  and  firefide  joy. 
For  this  time  were  his  reafons  — 

In  Ihort,  Young  Love  's  a  gallant  boy. 
That  likes  all  times  and  feafons. 

Thomas  Campbell. 


33 


3^^ 


0( 

I 


VENUS'    RUNAWAY 

jQEAUTiEs,  have  ye  feen  this  toy^ 
J^      Called  Love,  a  little  boy, 
Almoll  naked,  wanton,  blind  ; 
Cruel  now,  and  then  as  kind  ? 
If  he  be  amongfl  ye,  fay  ? 
He  is  Venus'  runaway. 

He  hath  marks  about  him  plenty  : 
You  fhall  know  him  among  twenty „ 
All  his  body  is  a  fire. 
And  his  breath  a  fiame  entire. 
That,  being  fhot  like  lightning  in. 
Wounds  the  heart,  but  not  the  fkin. 

At  his  fight  the  fun  hath  turned, 
Neptune  in  the  waters  burned  ; 
Hell  hath  felt  a  greater  heat  ; 
Jove  himfelf  forfook  his  feat. 
From  the  center  to  the  fky 
Are  his  trophies  reared  high. 

34 


Trull  him  not  ;   his  words,  though  Iweet, 

Seldom  with  his  heart  do  meet. 

All  his  practice  is  deceit  ; 

Every  gift  it  is  a  bait  ; 

Not  a  kils  but  poifon  bears  ; 

And  moll  treafon  in  his  tears. 

Idle  minutes  are  his  reign  ; 

Then  the  ftraggler  makes  his  gain 

By  prefenting  maids  with  toys. 

And  would  have  ye  think  them  joys  • 

'T  is  the  ambition  of  the  elt 

To  have  all  childifh  as  himfelf. 

If  by  thefe  ye  pleafe  to  know  him. 
Beauties,  be  not  nice,  but  show  him. 
Though  ye  had  a  will  to  hide  him. 
Now,  we  hope,  ye  '11  not  abide  him  ; 
Since  you  hear  his  faller  play. 
And  that  he  's  Venus'  runaway. 

Ben  Jonson. 


35 


[h 


BEWARE  THE    ROGUE 


^)Peef  in  the  fhadow  of  her  hazel  eyes. 

Waiting  to  capture  men.  Love  lurking  lies. 
Her  glances  are  the  arrows  of  his  bow. 
Wherewith  he  lays  unwary  victims  low ; 
And  file,  unufed  to  Cupid's  artful  wiles, 
Unconscious  aids  his  purpofe  by  her  fmiles. 
And  knows  not,  as  her  fmiles  and  glances  dart. 
What  anguilh  thefe  may  bring  to  many  a  heart. 


Ah  !  hapless  maiden,  innocently  gay. 

No  prefage  of  the  future  breeds  difmay ; 

She  does  not  know  how  foon  the  treacherous  guell 

Will  make  her  heart  the  haven  of  unrell. 

Ungrateful  Cupid!   Soon  from  her  he  '11  fly. 

And  feek  a  refuge  in  fome  lover's  eye. 

Then  from  that  point  of  vantage  aim  a  dart 

To  pierce  and  agonize  her  maiden  heart. 

Thomas  Dunn  English. 


^6 


THE    FAIR    THIEF 


S>g=v^;::;*,A  f fq p  f  the  urchin  well  could  go 

She  Hole  the  whiteness  of  the  snow. 
And  more  that  whiteness  to  adorn 
She  ftole  the  blufhes  of  the  morn; 
Stole  all  the  fweets  that  either  fheds 
On  primrofe  buds  or  violet  beds. 


Still,  to  reveal  her  artful  wiles. 
She  ftole   the  Graces'  lilken  fmiles: 
She  ftole  Aurora's  balmy  breath. 
And  pilfered  orient  pearl  for  teeth: 
The  cherry,  dipt  in  morning  dew. 
Gave  moifture  to  her  lips  and  hue. 

Thefe  were  her  infant  fpoils,  a  ftore 
To  which  in  time  fhe  added  more: 
At  twelve  fhe  ftole  from  Cyprus'  queen 
Her  air  and  love-commanding  mien; 
Stole  Juno's  dignity,  and  ftole 
From  Pallas  fenfe  to  charm  the  foul. 

Apollo's  wit  was  next  her  prey; 
Her  next,  the  beam  that  lights  the  day. 
She  fung:    amazed  the  Sirens  heard. 
And  to  aftert  their  voice  appeared: 
She  played:  the  Mufes  from  the  hili 
Wondered  who  thus  had  ftol'n  their  fkill. 


37 


Great  Jove  approved  her  crimes  and  art; 
And  t'other  day  fhe  Hole  my  heart! 
If  lovers,  Cupid,  are  thy  care. 
Exert  thy  vengeance  on  this  Fair; 
To  trial  bring  her  ilolen   charms. 
And  let  her  prilon  be  my  arms. 

Charles  Wyndham. 


3^ 


LOVE    AND    THE    WITCHES 

^^?^/^>^^T  was  a  little,  fearful  maid, 

:>        Whofe  mother  left  her  all  alone; 
4,'v^C  Her  door  with  iron  bolt  fhe  Hayed, 

And  'gainll  it  rolled  a  lucky  Hone  — 
For  many  a  night  fhe  'd  waked  with  fright 

when  witches  by  the  houfe  had  flown. 

To  piping  lute  in  Hill  midnight. 

Who  comes  a-fmging  at  the  door, — 

That  fhoweth  feams  of  golden  light, — 
"Ah,  open,  darling,  I  implore"? 

She  could  not  help  knowing  't  was  Love, 
although  they  'd  never  met  before. 

She  fwiftly  fhot  the  iron  bar. 

And  rolled  the  lucky  Hone  away. 

And  careful  fet  the  door  ajar  — 

"  Now  enter  in.  Sir  Love,  I  pray  ; 

My  mother  knows  it  not,  but  I  have  watched 
for  you  this  many  a  day." 

With  fan  and  roar  of  gloomy  wings 

They  gave  the  door  a  windy  fhove ; 
Thev  perched  on  chairs  and  brooms  and  things; 

Like  bats  they  beat  around  above  — 
Poor  little  maid,  flie  'd  let  the  witches  in  with 
Love. 

Mary  E.  Wilkins. 


39 


LOVE    AND    DREAM 

uPiD,  wandering  one  May-day, 

Met  with  loitering   Death  by  chance; 
No  aged  carl  as  many  say. 
But  young  as  he,  as  fair  and  gay. 
As  fond  of  boyifh  fport  or  dance. 

**  Come,  wrellle,"  and,  so  saying.  Love, 

LooPning  the  quiver  at  his  breail. 
Hung  it  upon  the  bough  above. 
**  Thefe  arrows,"  quoth  he,  **  when  they  rove. 

Make  youth  a  flave  at  my  beheil." 

Among  the  tender-blooming  leaves 
Death  made  his  quiver  sure  and  faft, 

**  My  arrows  bring  reil  when  age  grieves," 

And  down  unwary  Love  he  heaves; 
So  frolicked  they  till  Difcord  pafied. 

She,  wicked,  hating  merry  play. 
Scattered  their  arrows  on  the  green. 

And  thus  confufed,  fome  got  ailray 

In  either  quiver.      Since  that  day 

Youth  dies  and  old  age  dotes,  I  ween. 

Anna  Vernon  Dorsey 


4^ 


CUPID    LAID    BY    HIS    BkAND 

upiD  laid  by  his  brand,  and  fell  afleep  :   • 
A  maid  of  Dian's  this  advantage  found. 
And  his  love-kindling  fire  did  quickly  ileep 
In  a  cold  valley-fountain  of  that  ground  ; 
Which  borrowed  from  this  holy  fire  of  Love 
A  dateless  lively  heat,  ilill  to  endure. 
And  grew  a  feething  bath,  which  yet  men  prove 
Againll  ilrange  maladies  a  fovereign  cure. 
But  at  my  millress'  eye  Love's  brand  new-fired. 
The  boy  for  trial  needs  would  touch  my  breall  ; 
I,  fick  withal,  the  help  of  bath  defired. 
And  thither  hied,  a  lad  dirtempered  gueil. 

But  found  no  cure  ;  the  bath  for  my  help  lies 
Where   Cupid  got  new  fire  —  my  miilress'  eyes. 

William  Shakespeare. 


a: 


^"jFFORE  me  carelefs  lying, 
x3    Young  Love  his  ware  comes  crying 
Full  foon  the  elf  untreafures 
His  pack  of  pains  and  pleafures, — 

With  roguifh  eye 

He  bids  me  buy 
From  out  his  pack  of  treafures. 

His  wallet  's  iluffed  with  blifTes, 
With  true-love-knots  and  kiffes. 
With  rings  and  roiy  fetters. 
And  fugared  vows  and  letters  ;  — 

He  holds  them  out 

With  boyifh  flout. 
And  bids  me  try  the  fetters. 


^^^f^. 


'ma 


^  '■^.^sA  ^y^  .j^  ^f -•<«*, 


J^ 


Nay,  Child  (I  cry),  I  know  them  ; 
There  's  little  need  to  fhow  them  ! 
Too  well  for  new  believing 
I  know  their  pad  deceiving, — 

I  am  too  old 

(I  fay),  and  cold, 
To-day,  for  new  believing  ! 

But  rtill  the  wanton  prefTes, 
With  honey-fweet  carefTes, 
And  ilill,  to  my  undoing. 
He  wins  me,  with  his  wooing. 

To  buy  his  wares 

With  all  their  cares. 
Their  forrow  and  undoing  ! 

Austin  Dobson. 


m 


43 


//if 


%-  ' 


LOVE'S    REWARD 


^^r^OR  Love  I  labored  all  the  day, 

fpr         Through  morning  chill  and  midday  heat. 
For  furely  with  the  evening  gray, 

I  thought.  Love's  guerdon  fhall  be  fweet. 


At  eventide,  with  weary  limb, 

I  brought  my  labors  to  the  fpot 
Where  Love  had  bid  me  come  to  him  ; 

Thither  I  came^  but  found  him  not. 

For  he  with  idle  folk  had  gone 

To  dance  the  hours  of  night  away; 
And  I  that  toiled  was  left  alone. 

Too  weary  now  to  dance  or  play. 

Francis  W.  Bourdillon. 


44 


THE    LOVE    THAT    IS    REQUITED    WITH    DISDAIN 

f)  N  fearch  of  things  that  fecret  are  my  mated  muse  began. 
What  it  might  be   moleiled  moil  the   head  and   mind 

of  man  ; 
The   bending   brow   of  prince's  face,  to   wrath    that 

doth  attend. 
Or  want  of  parents,  wife,  or  child,  or  loss  of  faithful 

friend  ; 
The  roaring  of  the  cannon  fhot,   that  makes  the  piece 

to  fhake. 
Or  terror,  fuch   as   mighty  Jove    from   heaven  above 

can  make  : 
All    thefe   in   fine,  may   not    compare,  experience   fo 

doth  prove. 
Unto    the  torments,  fharp  and  ftrange,  of  fuch  as  be 

in  love. 
Love  looks  aloft,  and  laughs  to  fcorn  all  fuch  as  griefs 

annoy. 
The   more   extreme  their  paflions    be,  the  greater  is 

his  joy  , 
Thus  Love,  as  victor  of  the  field,  triumphs  above  the 

reft. 
And  joys   to  fee  his  fubjects   lie  with  living  death   in 

breaft; 
But  dire  Difdain  lets  drive  a  fhaft,  and  galls  this  brag- 
ging fool. 
He  plucks  his  plumes,  unbends  his  bow,  and  fets  him 

new  to  fchool; 


45 


Whereby    this    boy    that    bragged   late,  as    conqueror 

over  all. 

Now  yields    himfelf  unto    Difdain,  his  vaflal   and   his 

thrall. 

William  Hunnis. 


CUPID    RELIEVED 


s  once  young  Cupid  went  aftray. 

The  little  god  I  found; 
I  took  his  bow  and  (hafts  away. 
And  fall;  his  pinions  bound. 


At  Chloe's  feet  my  fpoils  I  caft. 

My  conqueft  proud  to  fhew; 
She  faw  his  godfhip  fettered  fad 

And  fmiled  to  fee  him  fo. 

But  ah!  that  fmile  fuch  frefh  fupplies 

Of  arms  refiftless  gave! 
I  'm  forced  again  to  yield  my  prize. 
And  fall  again  his  flave. 

SOAME  JeNYNS. 


+6 


LOVE    BANISHED   HEAVEN 

ovE  banifhed  heaven,  in  earth  was  held  in  fcorn. 
Wand' ring  abroad  in  need  and  beggary; 
And  wanting  friends,  though  of  a  goddess  born. 
Yet  craved  the  alms  of  fuch  as  palled  by : 
I,  like  a  man  devout  and  charitable. 
Clothed  the  naked,  lodged  this  wand'ring  gueft. 
With  fighs  and  tears  flill  furnifhing  his  table. 
With  what  might  make  the  miferable  bleft; 
But  this  ungrateful,  for  my  good  defert. 
Enticed  my  thoughts  againft  me  to  confpire. 
Who  gave  confent  to  Ileal  away  my  heart. 
And  fet  my  breaft  his  lodging  on  a  fire. 
Well,  well,  my  friends,  when  beggars  grow  thus  bold, 
No  marvel  then  though  charity  grow  cold. 

Michael  Drayton. 


47 


THE  BEGGING  CUPID 

A  piece  of  Sculpture 

/WATCHED  as  they  ilood  before  it,- 
A  girl  with  a  face  as  fair 
As  any  among  the  marbles. 
So  cold  in  their  whitenefs  there ; 

And  a  youth  in  whofe  glance,  entreaty 
Each  lineament  feemed  to  flir. 
She  only  had  eyes  for  the  fculpture  ; 
He  only  had  eyes  for  her. 


And  poifing  in  critic-fafhion 
The  delicate  upturned  head, 
**  Was  ever  fo  fweet  a  beggar  ?  " 
With  fudden  appeal,  fhe  faid. 


**Jull  look  at  the  innocent  archnefs. 
The  fimple  and  childifh  grace. 
Half  mirthful  and  half  pathetic. 
That  dimples  his  pleading  face. 
48 


**  Whoever  could  think  that  mifchief 
Was  hidden  in  fuch  a  guile  ? 
Or  even  that  roly  Ibrrows 
Lurk  in  thofe  lambent  eyes  ? 

**  De?iy  him  F   Perhaps  !   though  never 
With  hardnefs  or  fcorn  or  blame  ; 
For  I  think  I  fhould  fob  with  pity. 
If  that  were  the  way  he  came." 

She  turned  as  fhe  fpoke  :    the  glamour 
Of  feeling  had  made  her  blind 
To  the  trick  of  the  flealthy  arrow 
The  Cupid  concealed  behind  : 


**  Ah,  ha  !  "  fhe  cried,  while  the  color 
Rubied  her  neck  of  fnow  — 
*'  You  plaufible,  wheedling  beggar  ! 
I  have  nothing  to  give  you, —  Go  !  " 

Margaret  J.    Preston 


LOVE!    IF    A    GOD    THOU   ART 


ovE  !  if  a  god  thou  art. 

Then  evermore  thou  muft. 

Be  merciful  and  julf ; 
If  thou  be  jull,  O  wherefore  doth  thy  dart 
Wound  mine  alone,  and  not  my  lady's  heart  ? 

If  merciful,  then  why 

Am  I  to  pain  referved. 

Who  have  thee  truly  ferved. 
While  fhe,  that  by  thy  power  fits  not  afly. 
Laughs  thee  to  fcorn,  and  lives  at  liberty? 
Then,  if  a  god  thou  wilt  accounted  be. 
Heal  me  like  her,  or  elfe  wound  her  like  me. 

Francis  Davison, 


50 


LOVE'S    GOING 

ovE  lies  a-fleeping ;  maiden,  foftly  fing, 

Lell  he  fliould  walcen  ;  pluck  the  falling  rofe 
A-brulhing  'gainll  his  cheek,  her  glowing  heart 
Ope'd  to  the  fun's  hot  kifles  —  foolifh  thing. 
To  lift  the  tale  oft  told!  —  but  fummer  goes. 
And  all  the  rofes'  petals  fall  apart. 

Love  lies  a-fleeping ;  let  the  curtains  part 
So  that  the  breeze  may  lightly  to  him  fing 
A  lullaby  —  the  changeful  breeze  that  goes 
A-whifpering    through    the    grafs,    where'er    it 
rofe. 
Where'er  it  lifteth  bound,  a  wilful  thing. 
Low  murmuring  fweets  from  an  inconftant  heart. 

Love  lies  a-fleeping  :  prefs  the  pulfing  heart 
That  beats  againft  thy  bofom  :  ftand  apart 
And  ftay  thine  eager  breath,  left  anything 
Should  mar  his  reft  —  the  fongs  that  lovers  fing. 
The  tale  the  butterfly  tells  to  the  rofe. 
The  low  wind  to  the  grafs,  and  onward  goes. 

Love  lies  a-fleeping :  ah,  how  fwiftly  goes 

The  fweet  delufion  he  hath  taught  thy  heart. 

Fair  maiden,  prefling  to  thy  breaft  the  rofe, 
Whofe  fun-kifl^ed  petals  fadly  fall  apart. 

With   thy    quick    breath!    Thy    rhyme    wouldft  hear 
him  fing 

Which  yefterday  feemed  fuch  a  foolifli  thing? 


51 


Love  lies  a-fleeping  :  nay,  for  fuch  a  thing 

Break  not  his  {lumber.      See  how  fweetly  goes 

That  fmile  across  his  lips,  that  will  not  fing 

For  very  wilfulness.      Love  hath  no  heart  ! 

If  he  should  wake,  thefe  red-ripe  lips  would  part 
In  laughter  low  to  fee  this  raviflied  rofe. 

Love  lies  a-fleeping  :  fo  the  full-blown  role 
Falls  to  the  earth  a  dead  unpitied  thing; 

The  graffes  'neath   the  breeze  deep-fighing  part 
And  fway  ;  and  as  thy  warm  breath  comes  and  goes 
In  motion  with  the  red  tides  of  thy  heart. 
The  fong  is  huflied  which  Love  was  wont  to  fmg. 

Love  lies  a-fleeping:  thus  in  dreams  he  goes; 
Strive  not  to  waken  him,  but  tell  thy  heart. 
**Love  lies  a-fleeping,  and  he  may  not  fmg." 

Charles  W.  Coleman,  Jun. 


52 


CUPID'S    ARROWS 

HCEBE,  wandering  in  a  wood. 

Chanced  to  fpy  Dan  Cupid  fleepirig; 
Long  the  curious  maiden  Hood 

Tiptoe,  through  the  branches  peeping. 
For  the  youngfler's  lips  fhe  yearned. 

Till,  the  branches  parting  flyly. 
She  to  flake  her  third  that  burned 

Stooped  and  kifTed  the  rogue's  mouth  fhyly. 

Now  the  boy's  eyes  open  wide. 

And  upon  the  maid  he  gazes, 
Grafps  an  arrow  at  his  fide. 

And  his  filver  bow  upraifes. 
Swift  the  maiden  turns  to  flee; 

Swift  the  arrow  follows  after. 
Wounding  in  its  flight  a  tree: 

Hark!  how  rings  the  maid's  clear  laughter. 

Cupid,  with  fleep-dazzled  eyes. 

Stares  a  moment  through  the  buflies 
Where  the  laughing  maid  ftill  flies. 

Then  adown  the  wood  he  ruflies. 
Now  the  fliaft  o'ertakes  the  quarry. 

Now  it  cleaves  poor  Phoebe's  heart  — 
Maidens,  ere  you  wake  Love,  tarry 

Firfl  to  filch  his  every  dart. 

James  B.  Kenyon. 


53 


^ 


^■!i^ 


THE  GROWTH  OF  LOVE 

^H,  Chloris  !   that  I  now  could  fit 
,^rl.        As  unconcerned,  as  when 
Your  infant  beauty  could  beget 

No  pleafure  nor  no  pain. 

When  I  the  dawn  ufed  to  admire. 
And  praifed  the  coming  day, 

I  little  thought  the  growing  fire 
Mud  take  my  reft  away. 


Your  charms  in  harmlefs  childhood  lay, 

Like  metals  in  the  mine  : 
Age  from  no  face  took  more  away. 

Than  youth  concealed  in  thine. 

But  as  your  charms  infenfibly 
To  their  perfection  preiled. 

Fond  love  as  unperceived  did  fly. 
And  in  my  bofom  reil. 


54 


.\.C'^>A 


_  (^'•L" 

.'^^ 

k^^^' '■    .^j^^is. 

s^^^^ 

My  paffion  with  your  beauty  grew, 

And  Cupid  at  my  heart. 
Still,  as  his  mother  favored  you. 

Threw  a  new  flaming  dart. 

Each  gloried  in  their  wanton  part  : 

To  make  a  lover,  he 
Employed  the  utmoft  of  his  art  — 

To  make  a  beauty,  flie. 

Though  now  I  flowly  bend  to  love. 

Uncertain  of  my  fate. 
If  your  fair  felf  my  chains  approve, 

I  fl:iall  my  freedom  hate. 

Lovers,  like  dying  men,  may  well 

At  firll  difordered  be  ; 
Since  none  alive  can  truly  tell 

What  fortune  they  muil  fee. 

Sir    Charles  Sedley. 


55 


LOVE'S   QUALITIES 


jp;s  Love  a  boy  — what  means  he  then  to  llrike? 

^  Or  is  he  blind, —  why  will  he  be  a  guide? 
Is  he  a  man, —  why  doth  he  hurt  his  like? 
Is  he  a  god, —  why  doth  he  men  deride? 
No  one  of  thefe,  but  one  compact  of  all: 
A  wilful  boy,  a  man  Hill  dealing  blows. 
Of  purpofe  blind  to  lead  men  to  their  thrall: 
A  god  that  rules  unruly  — God,  he  knows. 


Boy!  pity  me  that  am  a  child  again; 
Blind,  be  no  more  my  guide  to  make  me  llray: 
Man!  ufe  thy  might  to  force  away  my  pain; 
God!  do  me  good  and  lead  me  to  my  way; 
And  if  thou  beell  a  power  to  me  unknown. 
Power  of  my  life!  let  here  thy  grace  be  fhown. 

Byrd's  Set  Songs. 


56 


BALLADE    OF   THE    ROSE 


^gl^^i^ELL  me,  red  role,  what  you  were  bid  — 
You  know  her  fecret;  you  fhe  wore 
'^%  Shy  J  nellling  in  her  hair,  half  hid 
^J^       By  jealous  golden  curls  a  fcore. 

As  waves  half  timid  kiss  the  fhore. 
Then  tremble  were  they  bold  or  no ; 

I  kiss  you,  blufhing  token,  for 
She  loves  me — rofe,  you  tell  me  fo. 


I  foftly  raife  your  fcented  lid. 

Where,  fleeping  fince  fome  dawn  of  yore, 
A  cryilal  dewdrop  lies  amid 

The  downy  crimfon  of  your  core. 

I  am  not  verfed  in  Cupid's  lore; 
But  fo  I  think  her  blufhing  glow 

Soft  guards  the  love  I  fue  her  for. 
She  loves  me — rofe,  you  tell  me  fo. 

And  when  her  hand,  in  dainty  kid. 

Gave  you  to  me,  as  n'er  before 
It  fluttered,  tried  itfelf  to  rid 

Of  fetters  that  it  never  wore. 

Why  trembled  fhe  ?     My  eyes  would  pour 
My  love  in  hers — why  did  fhe  fo  ? 

Was  it  becaufe  fhe  hates  me,  or  — 
She  loves  me  —  rofe,  you  tell  me  fo. 


57 


L   ENVOY 


Rofe,  come  you  not  ambaflador 

From  Cupid's  court  to  let  me  know 

Love  yields  at  lall  ?     Speak,  I  implore! 
She  loves  me — rofe,  you  tell  me  fo. 

H.  C.  Faulkner. 


AN    AWAKENING 

OVE  had  forgotten  and  gone  to  fleep; 

Love  had  forgotten  the  prefent  and  pail. 
^  I  was  fo  glad  when  he  ceafcd  to  weep; 

**Now  he  is  quiet,"  I  whifpered,  '*at  laft." 

What  sent  you  here  on  that  night  of  all  nights. 
Breaking  his  slumber,  dreamless  and  deep. 

Just  as  I  whifpered  below  my  breath, 

**  Love  has  forgotten  and  gone  to  flcep"? 

Anne  Reeve  Aldrich, 


58 


LOVE    AND    A    COMPASS 


^S)^S^o  the  north  of  her  mouth,  eall  and  weft  of  her  eyes. 
By  the  curls  of  her  treffes  half  hidden. 
Two  ears,  of  the  tinieft,  daintieft  fize. 
Are  kilTed  by  the  breezes  unbidden. 


And  right  to  the  north  of  each  exquifite  cheek 

Lie  her  eyes,  of  a  brilliancy  tender. 
Their  color  I  know  not,  but  in  them  I  feek 

Some  fign  of  approaching  furrender. 

Due  north  of  the  dimple  that  hides  in  her  chin, 
Two  lips  conceal  mufic  behind  them; 

And  when  a  fmile  plays  on  them,  Cupids  begin 
To  break  from  the  bonds  that  confine  them. 

Juft  fouth  of  her  chin  ftands  a  full-rounded  throat, 
Whofe  whiteness  than  marble  is  whiter; 

Southeaft  and  southweft  of  it,  fhoulders  I  note  — 
No  curves  are  more  graceful,  or  lighter. 

In  the  fouth  of  her  bofom,  a  bit  to  the  weft. 

Is  the  greateft  of  all  of  her  beauties: 
My  loadftar  's  the  heart  that  is  hid  in  her  breaft; 

To  obey  it  's  my  fweeteft  of  duties. 

S.  D.  Smith,  Jr. 


59 


^^ 


LOVE    IS    DEAD 


^^^jj 


)iNG   out  your   bells  !    let  mourning   fhovvs   be 
fpread ! 

For  Love  is  dead. 
All  love  is  dead,  infected 

With  plague  of  deep  difdain  : 
Worth,  as  naught  worth,  rejected. 
And  faith  fair  fcorn  doth  gain. 
From  fo  ungrateful  fancy. 
From  fuch  a  female  phrenzy. 
From  them  that  ufe  men  thus. 
Good  Lord  !   deliver  us. 

Weep,  neighbours  !   weep  :   do  you  not  hear  it  faid 
That  Love  is  dead  ? 
His  death-bed  peacock's  folly. 

His  winding-fheet  is  fhame. 
His  will  falfe  feeming  holy. 
His  fole  executor  blame. 
From  fo  ungrateful  fancy. 
From  fuch  a  female  phrenzy. 
From  them  that  ufe  men  thus. 
Good  Lord  !   deliver  us. 
60 


¥^ 


Let  dirge  be  fung,  and  trentals  rightly  read  ! 
For  Love  is  dead. 
Sir  Wrong  his  tomb  ordaineth. 

My  Mistrefs'  marble  heart  ; 
Which  epitaph  containeth  — 

**  Her  eyes  were  once  his  dart." 
From  fo  ungrateful  fancy. 
From  fuch  a  female  phrenzy. 
From  them  that  ufe  men  thus, 
Good  Lord  !   deliver  us. 

Alas  !   I  lie  :   rage  hath  this  error  bred  : 
Love  is  not  dead. 
Love  is  not  dead,  but  fleepeth 
In  her  unmatched  mind. 
Where  (he  his  counfel  keepeth 
Till  due  deferts  fhe  find. 
Therefore  from  fo  vile  fancy. 
To  call  fuch  wit  a  phrenzy 
Who  love  can  temper  thus. 
Good  Lord  !   deliver  us. 

Sir   Philip  Sidney 


6i 


^ 


WILY    CUPID 

RUST  not  his  wanton  tears. 

Lest  they  beguile  ye  ; 
Trull  not  his  childilh  figh. 

He  breatheth  flily. 
Trull  not  his  touch. 

His  feeling  may  defile  ye; 
Trull  nothing  that  he  doth. 

The  wag  is  wily. 
If  you  suffer  him  to  prate. 
You  will  rue  it  over-late. 

Beware  of  him,  for  he  is  witty: 
Quickly  flrive  the  boy  to  bind. 
Fear  him  not,  for  he  is  blind. 

If  he  get  loofe,  he  fhows  no  pity. 

Henry  Chettle. 


62 


THE    BURIAL    OF    LOVE 

Maiden's  hearts  are  always  f oft; 
Would  that  men''  s  were  truer! 

Song, 


12Sl^^J^wo  dark-eyed  maids,  at  fhut  of  day, 
^^^-^    Sat  where  a  river  rolled  away. 

With  calm,  fad  brows  and  raven  hair. 
And  one  was  pale  and  both  were  fair. 


Bring  flowers,  they  fang,  bring  flowers  unblown. 
Bring  foreil-blooms  of  name  unknown; 
Bring  budding  fprays  from  wood  and  wild. 
To  llrew  the  bier  of  Love,  the  child. 

Clofe  foftly,  fondly,  while  ye  weep. 
His  eyes,  that  death  may  feem  like  fleep. 
And  fold  his  hands  in  fign  of  reft. 
His  waxen  hands,  acrofs  his  breaft. 

And  make  his  grave  where  violets  hide. 
Where  ftar-flowers  ftrew  the  rivulet's  fide. 
And  bluebirds  in  the  mifty  fpring 
Of  cloudlefs  Ikies  and  fummer  fing. 

Place  near  him,  as  ye  lay  him  low. 
His  idle  fhafts,  his  loofened  bow. 
The  filken  fillet  that  around 
His  waggifh  eyes  in  fport  he  wound. 


63 


But  we  fhall  mourn  him  long,  and  mils 

His  ready  fmile,  his  ready  kifs. 

The  patter  of  his  little  feet. 

Sweet  frowns  and  Hammered  phrafes  fweet; 

And  graver  looks,  ferene  and  high, 
A  light  of  heaven  in  that  young  eye. 
All  thefe  Ihall  haunt  us  till  the  heart 
Shall  ache  and  ache  —  and  tears  will  Hart. 

The  bow,  the  band  fhall  fall  to  dull. 
The  fhining  arrows  wafle  with  ruft. 
And  all  of  Love  that  earth  can  claim 
Be  but  a  memory  and  a  name. 

Not  thus  his  nobler  part  fhall  dwell 
A  prifoner  in  this  narrow  cell; 
But  he  whom  now  we  hide  from  men 
In  the  dark  ground,  fhall  live  again: 

Shall  break  thefe  clods,  a  form  of  light. 
With  nobler  mien  and  purer  fight. 
And  in  the  eternal  glory  Hand, 
Higheft  and  nearell  God's  right  hand. 

William   Cullen   Bryant. 


64 


CUPID   SWALLOWED 


I'OTHER  day,  as  I  was  twining 
Roles,  for  a  crown  to  dine  in. 
What,  of  all  things,  midll  the  heap. 
Should  I  light  on,  fall  afleep. 
But  the  little  defperate  elf. 
The  tiny  traitor  —  Love  himfelf ! 
By  the  wings  I  pinch' d  him  up 
Like  a  bee,  and  in  a  cup 
Of  my  wine  I  plunged  and  fank  him ; 
And  what  d'ye  think  I  did? — I  drank  him! 
Faith!   I  thought  him  dead.      Not  he! 
There  he  lives  with  tenfold  glee  ; 
And  now  this  moment,  with  his  wings 
I  feel  him  tickling  my  heart-llrings. 

Leigh  Hunt. 


65 


THE    FILLET 

ZovE  has  a  fillet  on  his  eyes  ; 
/      He  fees  not  with  the  eyes  of  men  ; 
Whom  his  fine  iilues  touch  defpil'e 

The  cenfures  of  indifferent  men. 
There  is  in  love  an  inward  fight. 

That  nor  in  wit  nor  wifdom  Hes  ; 
He  walks  in  everlalling  light, 
Defpite  the  fillet  on  his  eyes. 


If  I  love  you,  and  you  love  me, 

'T  is  for  fubflantial   reafons,  fweet- 
For  fomething  other  than  we  fee. 

That  fatiffies,  though  incomplete  ; 
Or,  if  not  fatiffies,  is  yet 

Not  mutable,  where  fo  much  dies : 
Who  love,  as  we,  do  not  regret 

There  is  a  fillet  on  Love's  eyes  ! 

Richard   Henry  Stoddard. 


ir^rm-t^^  TT^"1-  tfi(\Tt^>tt'\rr'itt^miy^-'<i^^St£irn^^ 


THE    ARCHERY    MATCH 


HE  fits  the  arrow  to  its  place. 
She  bends  the  bow  with  (kill  and  grace. 

The  feathered  fhaft  lets  fly; 
A  look  of  triumph  lights  her  face — 

The  fcore  's  a  tie! 

Dan  Cupid,  who  's  a  bowman  true. 
Then  boldly  tries  what  he  can  do 

To  bind  the  tie  fore'er; 
Refult:  the  world  declares  the  two 

A  well-matched  pair! 

Arthur  Grissom. 


68 


THE    BURIAL    OF    LOVE 


IS  eyes  in  eclipfe, 
^  Pale-cold  his  lips. 

The  light  of  his  hopes  unfed. 
Mute  his  tongue. 
His  bow  unilrung 
With  the  tears  he  hath  fhed. 
Backward  drooping  his  graceful  head. 
Love  is  dead  : 
His  lali  arrow  is  fped ; 
He  hath  not  another  dart ; 
Go  —  carry  him  to  his  dark  deathbed; 
Bury  him  in  the  cold,  cold  heart - 
Love  is  dead. 


Oh,  truell  Love!  art  thou  forlorn. 
And  unrevenged  ?   thy  pleafant  wiles 
Forgotten,  and  thine  innocent  joy  ? 
Shall  hollow-hearted  Apathy, 
The  cruelleft  form  of  perfect  fcorn 
With  languor  of  moil  hateful  fmiles. 
Forever  write. 
In  the  withered  light 
Of  the  tearlefs  eye. 

An  epitaph  that  all  may  fpy  ? 
No!   fooner  fhe  herfelf  fhall  die. 


69 


For  her  the  fhowers  fhall  not  fall 

Nor  the  round  fun  fhine  that  fhineth  to  all ; 

Her  light  fhall  into  darknefs  change  ; 
For  her  the  green  grafs  shall  not  fpring. 
Nor  the  rivers  flow,  nor  the  fvveet  birds  fing, 

Till  Love  have  his  full  revenge. 

Alfred,  Lord  Tennyson. 


SONG 


)ADiES,  though  to  your  conquering  eyes 
Love  owes  his  chiefell  victories. 
And  borrows  thofe  bright  arms  from  you 
^^TU^c^^  With  which  he  does  the  world  fubdue; 
Yet  you  yourfelves  are  not  above 
The  empire  nor  the  griefs  of  love. 


Then  rack  not  lovers  with  difdain, 
Leil  love  on  you  revenge  their  pain; 
You  are  not  free  becaufe  you  're  fair. 
The  boy  did  not  his  mother  Iparc: 
Though  beauty  be  a  killing  dart. 
It  is  no  armour  for  the  heart. 


Sir  George  Etherege. 


70 


LOVE    AND    MISCHIEF 

NE  sunny  day  Love  chofe  to  ftray 

Adown  a  rofy  path  forbidden. 
Where  Mifchief  deep  in  ambafh  lay. 

And  watched  his  fnare  'neath  flowers  hidden: 
Love  tumbling  in,  began  to  fhout 

For  Mifchief's  aid,  lell  he  fhould  fmother: 
**  You  little  demon,  let  me  out. 

Or  I  '11  report  you  to  my  mother." 
Said  Mifchief,  **I'll  not  set  you  free 
Unlefs  you  fliare  your  power  with  me. 
And  give  of  every  heart  you  gain. 
One-half  to  joy  and  half  to  pain. " 

Love  llruggled,  but  in  vain,  alas! 

He  was  not  born  to  prove  a  martyr. 
And,  fad  to  tell!  it  came  to  pafs 

He  gave  in  to  the  little  Tartar. 
Love  flew  to  Venus  in  a  pet. 

And  cried,  when  he  had  told  his  flory: 
*'  O,  Queen  of  Beauty,  never  let 

That  little  imp  wear  half  my  glory." 
The  goddefs  with  a  look  fedate. 
Replied,  *'I  cannot  alter  fate. 
But  you  fliall  conquer  flill,  my  boy, 
I  '11  make  love's  pain  more  fweet  than  joy." 

Zavarr  Wilmshurst. 


71 


^m. 


? 


I 


DAMON    AND    CUPID 

rHE  fun  was  now  withdrawn. 
The  fhepherds  home  were  fped  ; 
The  moon  wide  o'er  the  lawn 

Her  filver  mantle  fpread  ; 
When  Damon  flayed  behind^ 

And  fauntered  in  the  grove : 
**  Will  ne'er  a  nymph  be  kind. 
And  give  me  love  for  love  ? 

*'  O  !   thofe  were  golden  hours. 

When  Love,  devoid  of  cares. 
In  all  Arcadia's  bowers 

Lodged  nymphs  and  fwains  by  pairs  ; 
But  now  from  wood  and  plain 

Flies  every  fprightlv  lafs  ; 
No  joys  for  me  remain. 

In  fhades,  or  on  the  grafs." 


72 


CUPID    AND    CAMPASPE 


upiD  and  my  Campafpe  played 
At  cards  for  kifTes;  Cupid  paid. 
He  Hakes  his  quiver,  bow  and  arrows. 
His  mother's  doves  and  team  of  fparrows; 
Lofes  them,  too;  then  down  he  throws 
The  coral  of  his  lip,  the  rofe 
Growing  on  's  check,  but  none  knows  how; 
With  thefe  the  cryllal  of  his  brow. 
And  then  the  dimple  of  his  chin  — 
All  these  did  my  Campafpe  win. 
At  lall  he  fet  her  both  his  eyes; 
She  won,  and  Cupid  blind  did  rife. 

O  Love!  has  flie  done  this  to  thee  ? 

What  fhall,  alas,  become  of  me! 

John  Lyly. 


74 


LOVE    FOR    LOVE 

WAY  with  thefe  felf-loving  lads 
^  Whom  Cupid's  arrow  never  glads! 
^  Away  poor  fouls  that  figh  and  weep. 
In  love  of  thofe  that  lie  afleep! 
For  Cupid  is  a  meadow  god. 
And  forceth  none  to  kifs  the  rod. 

Sweet  Cupid's  fhafts,  like  deftiny. 

Do  caufelefs  good  or  ill  decree; 

Defert  is  borne  out  of  his  bow. 

Reward  upon  his  wing  doth  go  ! 

What  fools  are  they  that  have  not  known 
That  Love  likes  no  laws  but  his  own. 

My  fongs  they  be  of  Cynthia's  praife, 

I  wear  her  rings  on  holy-days. 

In  every  tree  I  write  her  name, 

And  every  day  I  read  the  fame. 
Where  Honour  Cupid's  rival  is. 
There  miracles  are  feen  ot  his. 

If  Cynthia  crave  her  ring  of  me, 

I  blot  her  name  out  of  the  tree; 

If  doubt  do  darken  things  held  dear. 

Then  well-fare  nothing,  once  a  year; 
For  many  run,  but  one  mull  win. 
Fools  only  hedge  the  cuckoo  in. 


75 


The  worth  that  worthinefs  fhould  move. 

Is  Love,  that  is  the  bow  of  Love; 

And  love  as  well  the  foller  can. 

As  can  the  mighty  noble-man:  — 

Sweet  (aint,  't  is  true,  you  worthy  be. 
Yet,  without  love,  nought  worth  to  me. 

FuLKE  GrEVILLE. 


A    KISS 


ou  afk  me  what 's  a  kifs  ? 

'T  is  Cupid's  keeneil  arrow! 
A  thing  to  take  a  '^mifs" — 
(You  aik  me  what's  a  kifs?) 
The  brink  of  an  abyfs! 

A  lover's  pathway,  narrow. 
You  afk  me  what  's  a  kifs? 

'T  is  Cupid's  keencj}  arrow! 

Charles  Henry  Luders. 


76 


THE    DILEMMA 

^^ow,  by  the  bleffed  Paphian  queen. 

Who  heaves  the  breail  of  fweet  fixteen  ; 

By  every  name  I  cut  on  bark 

Before  my  morning  star  grew  dark  ; 

By  Hymen's  torch,  by  Cupid's  dart. 

By  all  that  thrills  the  beating  heart  ; 

The  bright  black  eye,  the  melting  blue  — 

I  cannot  choofe  between  the  two. 

I  had  a  vifion  in  my  dreams;  — 
I  saw  a  row  of  twenty  beams ; 
From  every  beam  a  rope  was  hung. 
In  every  rope  a  lover  fwung  ; 
I  afked  the  hue  of  every  eye 
That  bade  each  lucklefs  lover  die  ; 
Ten  fhadowy  lips  faid  heavenly  blue. 
And  ten  accufed  the  darker  hue. 

I  alked  a  matron  which  (he  deemed 
With  fairell  light  of  beauty  beamed  ; 
She  anfwered,  fome  thought  both  were  fair 
Give  her  blue  eyes  and  golden  hair. 
I  might  have  liked  her  judgment  well, 
But,  as  fhe  fpoke,  fhe  rung  the  bell. 
And  all  her  girls,  nor  fmall  nor  few. 
Came  marching  in — their  eyes  were  blue. 


77 


I  afked  a  maiden  ;  back  fhe  flung 

The  locks  that  round  her  forehead  hung. 

And  turned  her  eye,  a  glorious  one. 

Bright  as  a  diamond  in  the  fun. 

On  me,  until  beneath  its  rays 

I  felt  as  if  my  hair  would  blaze; 

She  liked  all  eyes  but  eyes  of  green; 

She  looked  at  me,  what  could  flie  mean  ? 

Ah  !   many  lids  Love  lurks  between, 
Nor  heeds  the  coloring  of  his  fcreen  ; 
And  when  his  random  arrows  fly. 
The  victim  falls,  but  knows  not  why. 
Gaze  not  upon  his  fliield  of  jet. 
The  fliaft  upon  the  ftring  is  fet ; 
Look  not  beneath  his  azure  veil. 
Though  every  limb  was  cafed  in  mail. 

Well  both  might  make  a  martyr  break 
The  chain  that  bound  him  to  the  Hake  ; 
And  both  with  but  a  fmgle  ray 
Can  melt  our  very  hearts  away; 
And  both,  when  balanced,  hardly  feem 
To  flir  the  fcales,  or  rock  the  beam  ; 
But  that  is  dearell,  all  the  while. 
That  wears  for  us  the  fweetefl  fmile. 

Oli\  ER  Wendell  Holmes. 


LOVE    PENITENT 

AiNT  me.  Love,  not,  as  of  old. 
Like  a  reveler  overbold  — 
Rofes  dropping  from  his  hair. 

Wings  that  rife  from  either  fhoulder 
Like  a  flame  and  fan  the  air  — 
Love  is  fadder  grown  and  older. 
Plays  no  more  with  bow  and  arrows. 
Scarce  has  heart  to  feed  his  fparrows. 

Paint  him  like  a  penitent. 
Wan  with  keeping  year-long  Lent, 
Worn  with  watching,  faint  with  prayer, 
Dufl,  not  rofes,  in  his  hair. 

Give  him,  for  his  bow  and  quiver. 

At  his  belt  a  pair  of  beads ; 
If  the  cold  air  make  him  fliiver. 

Give  him  fackcloth  for  his  needs. 
Lingering  farewells,  merry  meetings. 
Stolen  looks  and  faucy  greetings. 
Dance  and  fong  and  revel  gay. 
He  muft  put  them  all  away. 

Bid  him  with  his  naked  feet 

Trample  out  his  torch's  flame. 
Turn  from  wine  and  dainty  meat. 
All  his  wandering  fancies  tame: 
Only,  lefl  we  quite  forget  him  — 
We  that  ufed  to  fpoil  and  pet  him — 
Grant  him  through  his  penance  fad 
But  one  gift  his  childhood  had  — 
Neither  torch  nor  ftiaft  nor  bow. 
But  the  fmile  we  ufed  to  know. 

Henry  Johnstone. 

79 


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